


and this is how you make me feel

by sunsetozier



Series: &tiwwa universe [3]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Smut, i'm writing my first smut for the fandom, it's happening bois, it's really cute smut tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-25 14:38:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14979290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetozier/pseuds/sunsetozier
Summary: It’s still a little daunting, though, when Eddie says, “Your text seemed a little off when I read it. Is there something you wanted to talk about?” And really, it’s a simple question, giving Richie the option to approach the subject gently, as he probably should, but he has no experience with this kind of thing and therefore can’t even try to bring himself to rationalize what he says or does.“Dicking down,” is what tumbles past his lips. Thankfully, he isn’t working today, or else some of his coworkers would be overhearing something that sounds… well, it sounds exactly like it is, but it’s looks worse without the context of why he’s bringing it up.[In which Richie has to confront his fear of letting Eddie down.]





	and this is how you make me feel

**Author's Note:**

> this is an add-on to my fic _and this is who we are _!! it can be read as a stand alone one shot but there are somethings that will not make sense without the context of the original fic.__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _so this took me way too long to write because i have a lowkey fear of writing smut because i have Good Ol' Issues that often get in the way of existing lmao, but!! this was the most requested and i honestly need to get over the shit that holds me back from writing what i want to write, so i powered through it and now we're here._  
>   
> 
> __  
> _shout out to the following ao3/tumblr users/guests who requested reddie's first time for this series!_  
>  -Emma  
> -wiersal  
> -the three anon's i got on tumblr
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _in terms of the timeline of this universe, this is placed between chapters seven and eight of &tiwwa, and is about a year and three months before _and this is where we belong ____  
> 

            The first time Richie thinks about it is about a month after he goes back to LA, in the midst of realizing that missing his _best friend_ Eddie was a lot easier than missing his _boyfriend_ Eddie. He’s being a complete baby about it and he’s fully aware of how fucking clingy he looks, but he can’t help it – he spent the first twenty-one years of his life unaware of how he really felt, and to only get a week being able to kiss and hold the man he loves before having to go back to the opposite side of the country…

            Well, it’s not fucking easy, that’s for sure.

            For the first week, his way of coping is constantly spamming Eddie with an endless supply of bullshit, whether it be dumb pictures, bad jokes, or ridiculous paragraphs of text where he gushes about how much he loves and misses his boy. Eddie finds it endearing, often calling Richie to tell him he’s being an idiot and that they’ll see each other again soon, but it doesn’t do much to ease how antsy he feels, unable to sit still, his chest aching whenever he thinks of how far away him and Eddie are from each other. Eventually, though, Richie has to start taking his shifts at work again, spending hours upon hours of his day within the walls of his studio and forcing himself to leave his phone on the other side of the room so that he won’t get distracted when he’s supposed to be doing a show. He still sends Eddie as many texts as he’s able to, working them in around his job, but it’s the night-time calls that gets him by.

            Eddie is a late studier. Even back in high school, he could often be found buried nose deep in a textbook until the early hours of the morning, and despite the concern expressed by the losers, he proved time and time again that that’s just what works best for him. Now that he only has half a school year left before graduating, he’s up almost every night, doing his schoolwork and studying for upcoming tests like his life depends on it. While Richie still tries to tell him he should get some sleep, he can’t help but be grateful for Eddie’s bizarre study hours, as it gives Richie the chance to talk to Eddie on the phone almost every night until he falls asleep.

            It’s all fine and dandy, if not a little bittersweet, until he tells his friends at the radio station about his new life development on his twenty-ninth day away from Eddie.

            “Who’re you texting, man?” Jackson, the man who hired Richie back when he was eighteen, asks, looking pointedly at the phone in Richie’s hands with an eyebrow raised. They’re all having lunch together when this happens, sharing a large table at some restaurant a couple blocks away from the station, and as soon as Jackson raises his voice to question this, everyone turns their eyes to Richie, as if just now realizing that they want to know, too. “You’ve been glued to that thing ever since you got back from New York. What, did you meet someone?”

            “Uh…” Richie trails off, turning off his screen with a half-typed message meant for Eddie waiting to be sent. He finds his gaze trailing to his left, meeting Marissa’s gaze almost shamefully, but she only smiles and nods, looking as though she already knows what he’s going to say. “No,” he ends up telling them, “I didn’t meet anyone.”

            It’s the truth, but it’s also very clearly hiding something else, causing Amanda – their designated technician who’s there to fix any issues they may have with microphones, sounds boards, or anything of that nature – to nudge his side and sing-song, “Who is it, then, huh? Is it a girl?”

            Again, he decides to be honest but vague. “Nope, not a girl.”

            “Is it a boy, then?” Jackson teases, reaching over to poke and prod at Richie’s side, which only succeeds in Richie recoiling from his touch. It’s moments like these where he wishes he already lived in Seattle, because he knows something as simple as this wouldn’t make him feel so uncomfortable if it were one of the losers, but he still likes these people, is friends with them for a reason, so he supposes he should just suck it up. "Y’know we won’t care if it is, right?” Jackson adds, apparently interpreting Richie’s withdrawal as a sign of fear, which is close enough that Richie’s doesn’t mind it being wrong.

            Lips tugging down into a frown, Richie offers a shrug and admits, “It’s a boy.” Once it’s out there and he sees the way everyone breaks out into wide smiles, he finds it easier to add, “It’s not just a boy, though. It’s my boyfriend.”

            Chaos fucking ensues.

            It’s kind of endearing, if not a little overwhelming, how much his friends want to know about Eddie, asking question after question. Richie loves answering the questions, too, loves the feeling that comes with gushing over the boy he loves, willing to tell every detail that he knows Eddie is okay with him sharing. For nearly twenty minutes it’s like this, his grin so wide that it makes his cheeks ache, until Andrew – another show host, who often comes in during the end of Richie’s hours to prepare for taking over once he leaves – jabs his elbow into Richie’s ribcage and giggles out, “Is he better in bed than Marissa was?”

            And that’s the moment, really, where Richie truly remembers why he loves the losers so much, because they know when to stop. They know what’s okay to say and what isn’t. And these people, the ones that Richie has known for three years now, seem to have no clue.

            “You shouldn’t fucking ask that,” Marissa states coldly, though she tries to conceal her obvious distaste towards Andrew with an eyeroll that almost looks friendly. “Don’t answer him, Richie.”

            Right. Marissa is good. Marissa would probably be his soulmate, if he wasn’t in love with Eddie. Richie is really fucking grateful for Marissa.

            Thankfully, no one bothers to bring up that topic again, either out of respect for Richie’s privacy or out of fear that Marissa might actually tear them apart with her bare hands, though Richie’s pretty sure it’s the latter that really keeps their mouths shut. He isn’t able to shake the lingering discomfort for a few horribly long minutes, but eventually, he gets over it and is able to go on with his day as if nothing happened.

            It seems to be a habit, however, that these things come back to him in the dead of night, when he’s too tired to fight them away. Seriously, it happened back in New York, like, three times? Maybe? Too many times to be a coincidence, that’s for sure. At first, it’s just a nagging little thought, just a simple little sentence – _you don’t know who’s better in bed because you haven’t been with either of them._

            Which is true, but it’s not really _fair_ , Richie thinks. With Marissa, he wasn’t… they weren’t really together. They were just friends who spent a year trying to convince themselves they were more. Even kissing was a rarity between the two, usually limited to holding hands and leaning against one each other during movies just for the sake of having someone to be close to.

            And with Eddie…

            Well, they probably kissed more in that one week than he and Marissa kissed for an entire year, and it definitely got a little heated a few times, but they _just_ got together and Richie has never been with a guy before. Hell, he’s barely been with _anyone_ before! He can hardly even remember the last time his dick felt anything but his own hand! It’s almost embarrassing, really, to think the last time he had someone in bed was back when he was eighteen and was just trying to find a way to cope with the fear that everyone would forget about him since he was the only one who moved to LA. That method clearly didn’t last very long.

            But Richie… he just, he wants to be good for Eddie. No, actually- he wants to be the best fucking person Eddie has ever been intimate with, because… because he… but…

            “Fuck this.”

            It’s midnight for him, which means it’s three in the morning back in New York, so calling Eddie definitely isn’t an option. Instead, he sends a text that just asks Eddie to call him when he has time, using the excuse that he misses Eddie’s voice. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s enough of one.

            And then he pulls up his contacts to call—

            “Please tell me you didn’t get arrested.”

            Richie bites back a grin. “Nope, not arrested. Just looking for some advice from my good ol’ pal, the one who never lets me down. Have I told you I love you recently?”

            On the other end of the line, Stan laughs lightly, sounding equal parts amused and intrigued. “Yeah, I love you, too, moron. Now tell me what you need advice for.”

            “Sex,” Richie states simply, pushing off his duvet in order to sprawl across his mattress. It’s oddly easier for him to focus when he’s star-fished like this, something that makes absolutely no sense, but hey. Anything to keep his mind on track. “Specifically, sex with guys, so that I’m not completely horrible whenever Eddie and I get down and dirty.”

            Stan snorts. “Oh, really? And why are you calling me about this instead of your boyfriend?”

            “Because,” Richie explains, rolling onto his side and letting out a long sigh, “Bill was there that one time, remember? I’m not gonna bug you about why, ‘cause that’s your business, but I figured, y’know, that means you have some kind of experience with another dude in bed. And I’m gonna talk to Eddie about this, too, but he’s finally catching up on some sleep tonight and you’re always awake. One plus one equals two, Stanley.”

            “That doesn’t—” Stan cuts off, and Richie can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Whatever. What do you want to know?”

 

 

 

 

            By the time Eddie calls, around noon the following day, Richie has gotten a basic, yet very helpful, rundown of what to expect. He’s still kind of antsy about it, a little bit scared to breach this specific topic, but it’s not like there’s anything he could say that would ruin their relationship. Seriously, Eddie could literally murder him and he’d come back as a ghost just to say he looked cute doing it. There’s nothing that the two of them can’t get through and he knows it.

            It’s still a little daunting, though, when Eddie says, “Your text seemed a little off when I read it. Is there something you wanted to talk about?” And really, it’s a simple question, giving Richie the option to approach the subject gently, as he probably should, but he has no experience with this kind of thing and therefore can’t even try to bring himself to rationalize what he says or does.

            “Dicking down,” is what tumbles past his lips. Thankfully, he isn’t working today, or else some of his coworkers would be overhearing something that sounds… well, it sounds exactly like it is, but it’s looks worse without the context of why he’s bringing it up.

            Eddie chokes on his breath. “You- what?!”

            “Dicking down,” Richie repeats, leaning back on his sofa, bouncing his knee anxiously. “Like, taking it up the ass. Going to town. Fucking, Eds.”

            “No, I know what you mean.” Eddie sighs, and under his breath he murmurs, “Jesus, I’m glad I waited until after my classes you call you.” Then, a little louder, he asks, “Why, exactly, do you want to talk about that right now? Pretty sure this is a conversation that could have waited until we were face-to-face.”

            Richie shrugs, only half aware of the fact that Eddie can’t see him, and answers, “It’s just, like- I dunno. It kind of popped into my mind last night, and I thought, y’know… I have…” He cuts off, brows twitching together in frustration as it becomes apparent that getting this out is going to be even harder than he thought. It’s not embarrassing, but… okay. Well. It’s a little embarrassing.

            “C’mon, Rich,” Eddie breathes patiently, whatever incredulousness from before gone now that he’s realized that this is more than just a random conversation about sex. “Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

            Hearing the gentleness in his tone helps Richie relax some, but it doesn’t make it much easier to choke out, “I have no- no experience, okay? I don’t know- I mean, I know, logically, but I haven’t done- haven’t- you know? Like…” He stops suddenly, and it’s then that the truth behind his anxiety hits him fully. Softly, voice weak and bashful, he whispers, “I don’t want to let you down.”

            There’s a moment where Richie holds his breath, because that’s just it, isn’t it? That’s what he’s so scared of. He doesn’t want to be inadequate, doesn’t want to disappoint. Quietly, Eddie lets out a little laugh, one that sounds like a product of disbelief. “Let me down?” he repeats. “Richie, that’s literally impossible. Sex isn’t- it isn’t a breaking point, or something to be so worried about. It’s just… it’s something we can do. You don’t have to do it at all, either. We could go our whole lives without having sex with each other and I wouldn’t give a shit because I’m dating you for _you_ , not for your dick.”

            “I…” Richie trails off, shaking his head. “I get that, but it’s still just… I want it to happen, you know? I want to, but I don’t know how to be good at it, and I just… I want to be good for you, Eds.”

            “Then just be yourself and we’ll make it work,” Eddie tells him warmly. “If you’re really stressed about it, we can talk through it more. And remember, I’m coming to see you over spring break, which is only two months away. We have plenty of time to figure this out before seeing each other again, okay?”

 

 

 

 

            The slight tension is obvious as soon as Eddie gets off the plane.

            Don’t get him wrong, Richie is so happy to see him that he literally starts crying, which Eddie relentlessly teases him for while wiping away his own tears, but there’s still two months worth of very sexual conversations preparing for this week weighing down their shoulders. Not _sexy_ conversations, no – not once did Richie pop a boner and have a good time during these lengthy talks. Instead, he had his phone on speaker, desperately hoping his walls are thick enough for his neighbors not to overhear, and literally took fucking _notes_ on the things he was told like he was taking a class on how to fuck Eddie Kaspbrak.

            Oh, and what an in depth class _that_ is. Seriously, it’s like Eddie completely separated himself from his dick for the sake of educating Richie on this and that, on things he likes and things he doesn’t, on things he’s willing to try and things that are a hard no. And it didn’t stop there, oh no – Richie was questioned about his own experience, things he finds appealing, things he doesn’t. They had an hour long discussion just about what their dynamic should in terms of topping and bottoming (conclusion: they’ll start with Richie topping, because he has no experience with having things up his ass and Eddie wants to ease him into that, and they’ll explore switching after they move to Seattle.)

            The day goes by easily, not necessarily fast but definitely not slow. They get lunch, stop by the radio station for a few hours so that Richie can do his last little segment before taking the next week off from work, and then they pick up dinner on the way back to Richie’s apartment. In front of the TV, they watch some shitty reruns and try to maintain small talk, but there’s still the lingering heaviness that Richie can feel in his lungs when he inhales, until, eventually, he says, “So, about the… the stuff we’ve been talking about—”

            “You can call it sex,” Eddie interrupts, sounding amused as he sets his take-out on the coffee table besides Richie’s already empty box. “In fact, if you just call it sex, you might not feel so embarrassed about it. What happened to the Richie that called me to talk about dicking down, huh?”

            “It’s easier,” Richie defends meekly, “when we’re talking over the phone. Like, if things so wrong, I can just hang up, you know? But if I fuck this up right now, I…”

            Eddie shakes his head and reaches forward to grab onto Richie’s hand, suppressing a grimace as he feels it shake slightly. “You’re not gonna fuck this up, Rich. We don’t have to do this today, or tomorrow, or even this week, alright?”

            Holding onto Eddie’s hand with a vice grip, Richie states, “I’ve told you this a hundred times, Eds- I _want_ this, one hundred percent, no doubts. It’s just, like… it’s something I have to do to stop being so scared, you know?” He looks at Eddie, who’s staring back at him with such a soft, caring gaze that Richie can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest. Clearing his throat, he squares his shoulder and asks, “How do we start this?”

            With a gentle smile, Eddie releases Richie’s hand and reaches up to cradle his face in his palms. “First of all, loosen up,” he instructs, drawing Richie’s face towards him to kiss him quickly. “You need to _relax_ , okay? If you don’t, you won’t enjoy any of this.” Richie nods curtly and tries to do as he was told, but his jaw only clenches as a small wave of nervousness washes down his spine and makes him tremble. With another gentle peck, this one aimed at the skin below his ear, Eddie tells him, “Look, we’re not doing anything new right now, okay?” He trails kiss slowly across Richie’s jaw, each one seeming to suck the tension from his body as he goes. Then, breath brushing over Richie’s lips, Eddie whispers, “We’ve done this before. There’s nothing to be scared of, Rich.”

            “Okay,” Richie breathes, his fingers unfurling from the anxious fists they were in in order to grasp onto the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer in order to slot their mouths together effectively. The television is quickly forgotten, the sound muffled by the noises of their spit-slick lips moving in sync with one another, Richie still using his grip to try and tug Eddie closer to him. It doesn’t take much longer before Eddie’s clambering forward to hover over Richie’s lap, one knee braced between Richie’s thighs and the other on Richie’s left side. After a moment, Eddie pulls back, their lips still connected by a string of saliva that makes something warm and fuzzy curl in the pit of Richie’s stomach.

            “You okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, fingertips trailing over the curve of Richie’s cheekbones, as if mapping out each and every freckle dotting his skin. Silently, Richie nods, trying to pull Eddie towards him, but Eddie stops him. “Words, Rich. I need you to talk to me through all of this, alright?”

            Again, Richie nods, but a few seconds go by before his mouth catches up with his brain and he finally gets out, “I’m good,” in a low, hoarse voice. Eddie freezes, looking uncertain due to Richie’s hesitation, but Richie just pushes in closer, their noses brushing together. “I mean it, Eds. I’m good.”

            Eddie falters, scanning Richie’s face for any sign of hesitancy, lips twitching into a small smile when he finds none. “Do you want to take this any farther yet?”

            “I—” Richie blinks once, trailing his gaze from Eddie’s face and down to where Eddie is practically kneeling over him, and he finds himself craving to have the space between them closed. He looks back up to meet Eddie’s eyes and curtly nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

            “Okay,” Eddie says against Richie’s lips, not yet kissing him again but simply resting there. “Tell me if you want to stop or slow down, okay?”

            Richie nods again, wishing that Eddie would officially close the distance and really kiss him. “I will.”

            “Promise?”

            “Yeah, Eds. I promise.”

            Apparently satisfied, Eddie fulfils Richie’s wish and closes the distance between them, continuing the kissing right from where they left off.  Richie’s hands detangle from Eddie’s shirt and instead slide underneath the material to hold onto his waist, drawing out a pleased little noise from the back of Eddie’s throat that Richie can feel rumbling into his mouth. There’s something about this that makes Richie feel weak, and all he can do let out an odd, high pitched whining as Eddie maneuvers his knee between Richie’s legs to the other side of his hips in order to lower his body and properly straddle him.

            Releasing a keening noise in reaction to the feeling of being so close, their bodies pressed together enough to feel everything there is, Richie tightens his hold on Eddie’s waist and involuntarily shifts his hips upward. Enthusiastic, but still somewhat cautious for Richie’s sake, Eddie reciprocates, rolling down just enough to have their clothed dicks brushing together slightly. Richie breaks their kiss with a soft grunt, looking up at Eddie with wide, blown out eyes. “Okay, _fuck-_ how is grinding so much better with you than it was with every girl I’ve ever been with? Are you, like, an actual sex god?”

            “We’ve barely even done anything, Rich,” Eddie laughs, wrapping one of his fingers into a little section of curls hanging in Richie’s face and tugging lightly, a devious little smirk forming on his face at the soft noise that Richie makes in reaction. He shuffles slightly, aligning their lower halves better, and dives an entire hand into Richie’s mussed up hair, not yet pulling but appreciating the way Richie’s gaze immediately darkens at the realization that Eddie remembers hearing about how much he enjoys his hair being yanked on. “If that’s what you want, though,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on Richie’s hair, watching in awe as Richie’s lips part in anticipation, “I can definitely deliver.”

            Richie doesn’t even have time to let out a broken plea before Eddie is bearing his hips down, immediately getting into a rhythm of grinding that makes Richie throw his head back against the sofa cushion. He can’t hold back the slur of curses that fall past his lips as he meets Eddie thrust for thrust, and he can’t really remember what he’d been so scared of now that his mind is so hazy, wanting more.

            Pressing a quick yet hard kiss to the side of Richie’s neck, Eddie asks, “Still okay?”

            “Never been better,” Richie manages to grit out, though the words quickly taper off into a moan that hangs in the air. On top of him, Eddie halts, making Richie quickly look at him in alarm, but Eddie is just… just _looking_ at him, eyes wide and lips parted in a silent _‘o’_.

            “That’s the first time I’ve heard you make that noise,” he explains in response to Richie’s questioning look. There’s a moment of silence that follows before Eddie suddenly pulls Richie’s head closer to him, panting heavily against his mouth, and mutters, “ _Fuck_ , I wanna hear it again.”

            And then they’re kissing again, a sloppy drag of spit covered lips as Eddie rolls his hips against Richie earnestly, tugging on his curls just enough to draw out another moan, this one louder than before and almost an entire octave higher. Eddie leans back, eyes somehow darkening even more at the sound, but before he can say anything, Richie asks, “Room? Can we- bedroom, please? Please?”

            Eddie nods, though he stays there for another long moment, scanning Richie slowly before releasing his hold on his hair and getting to his feet. “You’re pretty when you beg,” he states, and the way he says it makes Richie’s knees tremble as he stands. “I’m gonna remember that for later.”

            “Definitely a sex god,” Richie mumbles as he clutches onto Eddie’s hand, leading the way through the living room and down the hall, pushing open the door and making a beeline for the bed. There’s something about falling into the sheets with Eddie right behind him, though, that really seems to clear the fuzziness in his head, leaving him scrambling back to lean against the headboard and closing his eyes, trying not to let his nerves get to him. “What now?”

            “Hey, look at me,” Eddie says, voice soft. Richie can feel the bed dip until Eddie’s weight as he climbs on, shuffling forward until he can cup Richie’s face in his hands. “Rich. Open your eyes.” A little reluctant, Richie obliges, meeting Eddie’s patient gaze shamefully. Softly, Eddie kisses him once, quick and innocent, and murmurs, “We talked about this, remember? You know exactly what we’re gonna do, and we can stop at anytime. We can stop now, if you want.”

            Taking a moment to breathe in deeply, Richie shakes his head. “I don’t want to stop.”

            “You sure?” Eddie questions, looking directly into Richie’s eyes.

            Richie holds his gaze, eyes reflecting desire and determination. “I’m sure.”

            Biting back a smile, Eddie nods, but he doesn’t pick things up from where they were, not yet. Instead, he kneels over Richie and kisses him again, not letting Richie deepen in when he tries. “Before we go on,” he says, thumbing over Richie’s freckles delicately, “I need you to relax again. And I mean _really_ relax, Rich. This is supposed to be fun, and if you can’t enjoy yourself and learn to be able to make a joke or laugh things off right now, it’s not gonna work out. You know that. We talked about all of this.”

            “Yeah, well, my notes are on the kitchen table, so sorry if I can’t remember everything we talked about,” Richie retorts instantly, and he means for it to be serious, because he really does have a little notebook in the kitchen filled to the brim with notes on all the things they said, but as soon as it’s out there – as soon as he hears it – he can’t help but let out a little snort at how ridiculous it sounds. Following the snort is a little bubbly laugh that he can’t contain, so he just presses his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder and tries to muffle it in his soft fabric of his shirt.

            “I’m sorry, your _what_ are on the kitchen table?” Eddie asks, sounding incredulous, but Richie can feel him pressing a grin into his hair. “That better be a joke, Trashmouth.”

            Giggling harder, Richie shakes his head, and he would be embarrassed if this were anyone else. “Not joking, unfortunately. You’d be proud of them, though. I used different colored pens and highlighters and everything. There’s even a few diagrams that I printed out and put in there.” At this point, Eddie has started laughing along, shaking his head slightly as Richie pulls back and gives Eddie a smacking kiss on the chin, his grin wide and genuine. “I’ll show you later.”

            Eddie rolls his eyes, taking Richie’s face in his hands again, but his features are soft and fond. “Laughing helps, right?”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Richie huffs, but his voice is light and airy, much more at ease than it had been before. “You’re right, I know you are. It’s just… really intense, I guess.”

            “And it’s gonna get more intense as we keep going,” Eddie hums out, “but you have to let yourself enjoy it instead of worrying about it so much. You can’t be so tense.”

            Richie doesn’t respond to that, instead just staring up at Eddie with a big, dopey smile that he couldn’t get rid of if he wanted to. And he realizes, suddenly, that there’s absolutely nothing to be so nervous about. Eddie has seen him at his absolute worst, as his lowest and his highest points, and he’s still here. Eddie is patient and understanding and kind, and Richie is so fucking in love with him that it almost hurts.

            Blinking down at Richie curiously, Eddie tilts his head to the side, looking uncertain about what Richie’s silence may mean. “Rich?”

            “I’m so fucking lucky,” Richie gusts out in a single breath before surging forward, reconnecting their lips with double the heat and five times the passion as before, drawing out a pleasantly surprised noise from Eddie as he quickly lowers himself back onto Richie’s lap like before. He uses his hold on Richie’s face to pull them impossibly closer, until their kiss is a searing mess of lips and spit and clashing teeth that neither of them care enough to worry about. It’s quick and sloppy and _good_ , so fucking good that Richie feels dizzy, head spinning as he tugs at the hem of Eddie’s shirt, unsure if he wants to use it as a grounding point or it he wants it off entirely. After a few moments, Eddie decides for him, pulling back with an audible _pop_ before shucking his shirt off of him in the blink of an eye, Richie’s following soon after.

            “You think _you’re_ lucky?” Eddie asks breathlessly, crowding into Richie’s space and leaving a burning trail of kisses from his jaw to his collarbone. “I’ve got a boyfriend who cares so much, he called me two months in advance just to ask have a surprisingly mature conversation about sex. Beat that, Tozier.”

            Richie’s chuckle is unexpected and punched out of him besides an airy little groan, fingertips scrambling for purchase on Eddie’s hips and pulling him closer, thoughtlessly grinding up in order to relieve his sudden, overwhelming need for any kind of friction he can get. “Yeah? Well, _my_ boyfriend spent those following two months talking me through every—” he bucks up again, a little harder this time, eyes fluttering at the feeling while Eddie pants heavily against his skin, “—single—” another one, and Eddie properly moans now, a broken sort of sound that goes straight to Richie’s dick when he hears it, “—thing I need to know for this to happen, just ‘cause I was scared and he wanted me to feel better.” By this point, his words are barely audible through his heaving breaths. He reaches between them, going to undo the button of Eddie’s jeans, and cocks an eyebrow. “I think I win, Kaspbrak.”

            “The stuff I told you to get,” Eddie gasps out, swatting Richie’s hand away and rolling off the bed in order to take his pants off quicker, leaving him clad in a pair of black boxer-briefs and looking at Richie expectantly. “Lube, condoms. Did you get them?”

            “Yeah, uh—” Richie juts his chin out towards his nightstand as he shimmies out of his own jeans, his actions so rushed that one of his hands slip and whacks him in the face, causing Eddie to let out a loud laugh as he rounds the bed to dig through the top drawer. “They should be the same brands and stuff you were talking about, if I wrote down the right ones.”

            Eddie reels back as soon as he gets ahold of the items he’s looking for, glancing at them briefly before tossing them on the bed with a nod and a grin. “You nailed it.”

            “See? Taking notes was a good idea,” Richie tells him cheekily, though all smugness is wiped away as Eddie climbs back on top of him. He doesn’t waste any time before going back to kissing Richie, deep and intentional, their bodies lined up so perfectly that Richie mewls, skin flushing at the feeling of only having their underwear separating them, two thin layers of fabric that leaves nothing to the imagination as they press flush against one another.

            Rocking slowly against Richie, not enough to really get him places but enough to force a little whine past his lips, Eddie pulls away from the kiss just far enough to murmur, “You remember what we talked about, right? About what we were gonna do?” Silently, Richie nods, trying to cant his hips upward, searching for more friction, but Eddie lowers his hands to grip his waist and holds him down. “Use your words, Richie. Do you remember what we talked about?”

            With a little gasp, Richie nods again, spluttering, “Yes! Yes, Eds, I remember, I—”

            “Tell me, then,” Eddie interrupts, raising his brows in a matter both challenging and patient, trying to urge Richie on but still giving him the room to stop this whenever he wants. “Tell me what you remember.”

            “Oh, sweet fucking Christ,” Richie groans out in frustration, giving up on trying to buck his hips up as his head falls back to thump against the headboard. Eddie laughs lightly at his dramatic sigh, which makes his lips twitch into an involuntary smile. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, but eventually he manages to get out, “You’re gonna- gonna prep yourself, and if I think I’m ready then I can help, and then, uh- when you’re ready, you’re gonna be on top? Right?”

            Eddie tilts his head to the side and hums, nose scrunching as he thinks over Richie’s words, then shrugs. “I mean, I was hoping you’d say that I’m gonna ride you, ‘cause that’d sound really hot if you said it, but yeah, you got it.”

            Breath hitching, Richie stammers out, “You’re gonna—”

            “Nope, too late,” Eddie interrupts him teasingly, shaking his head once. “You missed your chance, Tozier. Can’t say it now. But can you do me a favor and help me get these off?” He drops a hand and tugs at the hem of his boxers, making Richie’s mouth go dry as he energetically nods, scrambling to guide Eddie to his knees and hooks his fingers under the waistband. He pauses, looking up at Eddie, who just smiles and murmurs, “Go ahead, Rich.”

            Taking a deep breath, Richie tugs the fabric down Eddie’s thighs until they get caught at his knees, and he has to let go so that Eddie can sit back and kick them off completely, but he doesn’t mind handing over the reigns because… fuck. Just- holy _fuck_. This isn’t the first time Richie’s seen him naked – hell, when him and Bev came to visit last summer, the three of them went skinny dipping just because they could – but this is the first time Richie’s seen him like this while knowing about his attraction, and it’s… it’s different. It’s good. Richie’s mouth may have gone from bone-dry to watering in the span of, like, ten seconds, that’s how insanely attractive Eddie is.

            Shuffling forward on his knees, not at all bashful about being bare and exposed like this, Eddie brushes a few fingertips against Richie’s cheekbone and asks, “Do you wanna get naked now, or wait until after the prepping?”

            “Um.” Richie blinks, and the idea of feeling Eddie sitting in his lap with absolutely nothing between them pops into his mind, making his head spin. “Now. Now is good.”

            “Okay,” Eddie murmurs, running a feather-light touch from Richie’s face, down his neck, across his torso, until finally resting on the elastic of Richie’s boxers, pulling it back slightly and letting it snap back against Richie’s skin. He looks at Richie quickly, pegging his reaction to see if he’ll back down, but all Richie does is place his weight on his hands and lift his hips in the air to make it easier. Suppressing a grin as his eagerness, Eddie complies in dragging the material down Richie’s legs until they’re completely off, tossing them behind him as he scans Richie’s full body slowly, lips parted to breathe out, “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so hot.”

            An odd, strangled sort of laugh bubbles from the back of Richie’s throat as he pointedly looks down Eddie’s body and then back up to meet his gaze. “Seriously? Have you seen yourself?”

            Eddie smiles then, a lopsided kind of thing that looks far too boyish and charming in this environment, but it makes Richie’s heart melt as he crawls forward to kiss him lightly, delivering so many quick pecks to Richie’s lips that it leaves him giggling under his breath. For a moment, he almost forgets about their position, about what they’re doing, but then he feels Eddie’s dick – his bare dick, nothing else – brush against his own, and the electric-like shock it sends shooting up his spine makes him break off from their kissing to let out a desperate, broken moan as he looks down and- yeah. Yeah, their naked dicks are, indeed, touching. That is exactly what’s happening, and fuck, it feels fucking great.

            “Shit,” he mumbles hoarsely, hips instinctively pushing up into the contact, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep within his chest at the friction the action causes.

            Above him, Eddie lets out a soft breath, biting his lip as he pushes back on Richie’s shoulders and instructs, “Lay down.” Immediately, Richie shuffles his body until his back is pressed into the duvet, pillows propping up his head as he blinks up at Eddie, eyes wide and full of anticipation. Eddie looks down at him for a moment, as if taking in this image and storing it somewhere deep in his mind that he’ll never forget, and Richie wants to reach over and grab his hand, but before he does, Eddie asks, “Do you want me to face you?”

            “What?” Richie asks, confused.

            Eddie grins a devilish kind of grin and picks up the bottle of lube in one fluid motion. “While I open myself up,” he explains slowly, softly, popping open the bottle, “do you want to see my face, or do you want to see my ass?”

            Richie feels his heart stop, restart, and then immediately accelerate as he pieces together what Eddie is asking. “Oh,” he breathes, eyes darting between Eddie’s heated gaze and the container in his hand, and- fuck. Both options are pretty fucking good, but this is their first time, and… well, he loves Eddie’s ass, but he doesn’t think it’s the most romantic option, so he softly answers, “Face. I wanna see your face.”

            And honestly, as hot as it may be to see Eddie’s fingers, slick and shiny, pushing their way past the ring of muscle that is his asshole and going in deep, deeper, poking and prodding and stretching him open – the mere idea of how it may look makes Richie squirm in the best way possible – he thinks that seeing the way Eddie sinks his teeth into his lower lip, skin flushing and eyes half-lidded and filled with lust, is, like, _at least_ a million times hotter. Because Eddie is beautiful, absolutely stunning, and he looks so fucking gorgeous like this, gaze foggy as he clutches Richie’s shoulder with one hand and reaches the other behind him to minister his prepping, desperate little noises falling from his lips as he occasionally ruts his hips forward, moans shaky and uneven, breaking off halfway only to restart louder, and Richie could probably just watch this all day and be happy, his own dick be damned. But then Eddie exhales, long and heavy, his gaze focusing on Richie, pupils blown so wide that the gray is almost impossible to see, and he says, “You ready?”

            “Fuck yeah,” Richie states, watching in fascination as Eddie reaches over to snatch the condom from where it’s resting a few inches away from his left hip and instantly tears it open.

            “Are you sure?” he questions, staring Richie down, and the fact that he’d stop this far in without question is enough to make Richie fall in love all over again.

            “I’m fucking _positive_ , Eds. Hop on.”

            Eddie huffs out a quiet little laugh at that, wasting no time in taking the condom out of the open package and rolling it onto Richie like a fucking pro. The feeling of Eddie’s hand encircling his dick so suddenly makes him hiss out in relief; he’d been so caught up in watching Eddie that he neglected to realize how much he was aching to be touched. The hissing tapers off into a high pitched whine as Eddie pours more lube onto his already slicked up hand and uses it to coat Richie’s cock, slowly stroking up and down his shaft until it’s sufficiently covered, and by the time he pulls back Richie is already a mess, breathing heavily and body begging for more.

            Bracing his hands on Richie’s shoulders, breathing out a quiet apology as he smears some of the excess lube across Richie’s skin, Eddie pushes himself onto his knees and shuffles forward until he’s hovering directly over Richie’s lap, the tip of his dick already brushing over the swell of his ass. Richie swallows thickly, mouth agape. “Holy shit.”

            “Just like we talked about,” Eddie tells him softly, ducking his head in order to meet Richie’s gaze, smile gentle and loving. Richie nods briskly, bringing up his own hands to get a grip on Eddie’s hips, scrabbling for purchase as Eddie suddenly reaches down to seize Richie’s dick in his hand. “Relax, Richie,” he breathes against his forehead, pressing a chaste kiss there. Richie takes a deep breath, trying to force the tension out of his muscles, but it seems impossible right now, so much anticipation coiling in the pit of his stomach that makes his jaw clench and his limbs stiffen. Brows twitching together in concern, Eddie uses his hand that isn’t currently holding onto Richie’s dick to take ahold of Richie’s chin, brushing their noses together lightly as he states, “Tell me a joke.”

            Richie falters. “Uh- what?”

            “A joke,” Eddie repeats, “or just something that makes you happy, or something you’re looking forward to. Just- stop overthinking this, okay? Think of something else and tell me about it.”

            “Um.” Richie blinks heavily, trying to get ahold of his spiral of thoughts, finding it difficult to focus on anything other than what they’re doing, but eventually he manages to get out, “I, uh- Seattle? I’m- I’m really excited about Seattle, ‘cause—”

            He cuts off with a gasp as Eddie lowers himself slightly, the tips of Richie’s dick now pressed directly against his hole, the heat within tantalizing close. “Keep talking,” Eddie instructs, voice strained; when Richie looks at him, he can see that he’s holding back right now, taking this so much slower than he would prefer just for the sake of making sure Richie’s okay.

            Has he mentioned that he’s head over heels in love yet?

            “Richie,” Eddie grits out, eyelids fluttering as he suppresses to urge to go further. “Keep talking.”

            “Okay,” Richie murmurs, clearing his throat, brows pinched together slightly. “Um- right, Seattle, uh—” he pauses with a low hiss as Eddie settles lower, his dick almost pushing in now. “I’m, um- I can’t wait to- to live with you, and- _shit!”_ Eddie lets out a slow breath of relief as Richie’s tip finally slips past the initial ring of muscle, and Richie’s head fucking spins, stars already in his eyes. “Jesus- _fuck_ —”

            Eddie releases his hold on the base of Richie’s dick and starts to slowly sink down, his hands moving to rest on each side of Richie’s face and drawing him in for a deep, languid kiss, which quickly turns into them just panting into each others open mouths with their foreheads pressed together as Richie bottoms out. There’s a rough little sound that comes from Eddie, his eyelashes brushing over his cheekbones as his eyelids flutter slightly. “You good?”

            “Why haven’t we been doing this since we were stupid, horny teenagers?” Richie instinctively asks with a low groan, head falling back to rest against the pillows beneath him. The question startles a snort out of Eddie, shoulders shaking slightly as he braces his hands on Richie’s chest, not yet moving his hips but getting prepared to do so at any moment. Richie grins up at him, sweat-damp hair hanging in his face as he squeezes Eddie’s hips once. “Seriously, I’m kind of offended that I’ve known you for-fucking-ever and this wasn’t a thing sooner.”

            “Well, I was in the closet and you didn’t know you liked guys yet, so,” Eddie shrugs one shoulder. He returns Richie’s smile with a wider one and wiggles his hips slightly, just enough to make Richie grunt. “You alright with me moving?”

            Richie’s fingernails dig into Eddie’s skin, not harsh enough to hurt or bruise, but he knows there’ll be some gnarly looking indents left behind for an hour or two once they’re done here. “If you don’t start moving soon, I might burst into flames.”

            “That’s hot,” Eddie states with a grin. Richie parts his lips to offer some kind of meaningless retort, but the words die on his tongue as Eddie rises until he’s almost completely off of Richie, and then promptly slams himself back down. For a moment, Richie thinks his heart’s going to fucking stop as his breath gets caught in his throat, but then Eddie does the same thing again, and again, and again, setting up a pace that isn’t quite brutal but is fast enough to revive him, forcing out a loud keening noise as his heartrate picks up speed, hammering away within his chest.

            An endless slur of curses and Eddie’s name falls from Richie’s kiss-bruised lips, none of it coherent or sensible as he holds tightly onto Eddie’s waist, watching the way his face pinches and contorts, skin somehow an even deeper red, the flush spreading all the way from his face to his thighs. There’s just something so stifling about this image – Eddie on top of him, bouncing his body up and down and releasing such lewd sounding moans, looking and sounding like some kind of pornographic god, and then Eddie is staring directly at him like Richie holds the greatest treasure the universe has to offer, and all he can do is groan. “Eds, baby, holy _fuck_.”

            Eddie lets out a high pitched cry of pleasure, switching from lifting himself up to rocking his body forward and back, forward and back, and Jesus, that’s somehow even better, the drag of Richie’s dick within Eddie’s walls deeper and tighter, enveloping him in a heat so intense that he thinks he might lose his fucking mind. The way Eddie smiles at him, breathless and beautiful, makes the world freeze around him. “Okay?”

            “So much better than okay,” Richie moans, thoughtlessly bucking his hips up to meet Eddie halfway for every thrust, every fluid motion, rocking up and curling his arms around Eddie’s center to half pull himself up, half pull Eddie down, and slot their mouths together in a filthy smear of lips and saliva, of muffled sound and tightening grips. His core is already complaining from holding himself up like this, but Eddie’s thighs have been trembling for a while now and he really doesn’t want to stop kissing just because his abdomen’s getting an unexpected work out, so he ignores the ache and pulls Eddie in closer, pressing their mouths together so hard that he fears there may be actual bruising left behind, but then Eddie whines and tugs on his hair and any worries are pushed aside to deal with later.

            “God, you’re so fucking _good_ ,” Eddie murmurs against Richie’s lips, his voice low and gravely, and when Richie pulls back just enough to catch his breath, it looks like Eddie is glowing in the dim lighting of his bedroom, sweat glimmering on his skin, eyes so bright and filled with want that Richie almost busts a nut just looking at him. “How long d’you think you’re gonna last like this?”

            Richie huffs out a heavy breath, shaking his head as he presses his lips to the juncture of skin between Eddie’s shoulder and his neck, grinding up into Eddie’s ass earnestly. “Not long,” he pants out, mouthing at Eddie’s skin and shuddering at the salty taste it leaves on his tongue. “Like, almost an embarrassingly not long time.”

            Eddie laughs, short and sudden, though it quickly cuts off into another high pitched noise that’s definitely going to be in Richie’s dreams for months. “Pretty sure that wasn’t proper English, Rich.”

            “Oh, fuck off, you fucking pretentious English major prick,” Richie groans, rolling his eyes before attaching his mouth to the side of Eddie’s neck to suck a mark into the skin there. Eddie snorts at that, the sound vibrating through his body and making Richie keen into the underside of Eddie’s jaw.

            “Yeah, that’s how you should talk to the guy literally sitting on your dick right now,” Eddie mumbles sarcastically, only to let out a sharp gasp as Richie shifts his weight slightly, one of his arms moving back to press into the mattress to gain leverage over his thrusts. Tightening his hold on Richie’s hair, Eddie tugs on the curls and goes back to lifts himself onto his knees and dropping back down quickly, desperately, his breathing getting quicker with each passing moment.

            Leaning up to press more sloppy kisses to Eddie’s parted lips, Richie airily admits, “’m getting close, Eds.”

            Nodding, Eddie breathes out, “Me, too.” His eyes flutter shut briefly, nose scrunching up as he moves his body faster. Every time he lowers himself and their hips meet, an involuntary little noise pushes past Richie’s lips, each one louder and higher than the last, mouth moving to try and form words that go undistinguished amidst the other various sounds he winds up making. Eyes blowing wide, Eddie stares down at Richie in wonder, softly musing, “Jesus, you sound like a fucking porn star.”

            Messily, Richie draws his lips across Eddie’s jawline, too far gone to think of a way to respond as heat coils tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach. “Eds,” he whines, long and high pitched, so desperate and wrecked that he can barely even recognize the sound of his own voice. “Eddie, baby, please- fuck, _please_ —”

            “You’re almost there, baby,” Eddie coos, looking far more effected by the sound of Richie pleading than either of them would have expected. He runs his hands through Richie’s hair in a gesture that seems soothing but only serves in getting his fingers further entangled in the curls. Slowing he actions to a crawling pace, he leans down and whispers, “Remember when I said you’re pretty when you beg?”

            Richie blinks blearily, tears burning in the corners of his eyes as he turns his head to meet Eddie’s steady gaze. When he tries to buck his hips up, Eddie’s thighs tighten into a vice grip, rendering him completely still as he preens, lower lip jutting out into a childish pout as he look at Eddie helplessly.

            Eddie tugs on his hair once, lightly, just enough to let him know his hands are there. “Well? Beg for it, Rich.”

            “Jesus _fuck_ ,” Richie whimpers brokenly, his head tilting back absentmindedly as he hopelessly attempts to grind his hips into Eddie’s, but it’s useless. Swallowing thickly, Richie brings his head back up and surges forward slightly, closing the space between them to press his lips to Eddie’s, though his misses slightly and hits the corner of his mouth instead. “Eds, Eddie, baby, my love, I- _fuck_ , please, Eddie? Please, just- just move, please, I’m so- so close, baby, I’m- _ah!”_ He cuts off, gasping as Eddie tugs on his hair again, making his vision blur with even more tears, which just isn’t fair because he’s never cried in bed before but Eddie just fucking does things to him and it’s kind of bullshit but it’s kind of amazing, too. “Christ, Eds, I- I’ll do anything, just—”

            “God, you’re gorgeous,” Eddie breathes. He takes a moment to consider this, as if weighing whether or not he wants to make Richie beg even more, but ultimately decides that he doesn’t want to wait any longer. Raising himself onto his knees for what he thinks will be the last time tonight, he tightens his grip on Richie’s hair and murmurs, “I bet you’re even more gorgeous when you cum.”

            And with that, his drops down fully on Richie’s dick and yanks on his hair – not necessarily hard, seeing as he doesn’t want to risk hurting him, but enough to make Richie groan, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he grinds into Eddie quickly, unable to hold back a hoarse shout of Eddie’s name as he finally topples over the edge. His orgasm hits him in waves, one after the other, leaving his mouth parted wide in ecstasy as he bottoms out completely, cheeks flushing a warm red. Staring down as Richie falls apart, it only takes a moment of rocking back and forth with Richie’s dick still buried deep inside him before Eddie follows suit, gasping out a sharp _Richie!_ as he rides it out, his pulse jumping as he comes across both his and Richie chests.

            He slumps forward, forehead pressed to Richie’s sweat-slick shoulder, breathing heavy and uneven. Richie wraps his arms around his waist, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to will his heartrate to go down, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth over and over, until his vision isn’t blurred and his lungs are no longer aching. After a few long moments where they just lean into each other, Eddie pulls back slightly, looking over Richie curiously, a hint of worry in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

            “Peachy,” Richie mumbles in response, his eyes still somewhat dazed at he looks at Eddie, lips twitching into a wide, happy smile. “I mean, my flaccid dick is still in your ass, but I’m not gonna complain about having my own personal cock warmer.”

            “You’re fucking disgusting, Tozier,” Eddie states, nose crinkling, though a laugh still bubbles up from his chest as he brushes some of Richie’s hair out of his face, smiling gently at the relaxed look on Richie’s face. He looks likes he’s about to say something soft, something maybe gentle and loving, but then something flashes in his eyes and he leans back slightly, brows raised. “Okay, but did you seriously take fucking notes on the things I was telling you, or were you kidding?”

            Richie grins. “One hundred percent serious.”

            “What the fuck? That’s so weird!”

            “Yeah, well, you should have expected this when you started dating me, so that’s on you.”

            “…I hate you.”

            “Mhm, sure. That’s why you still haven’t hopped off my dick."

**Author's Note:**

> i feel lowkey awkward as fuck posting smut but that's just because of my own personal shit so i'm just gonna drop this here and hope it isn't awful
> 
> let me know what you think! hmu on tumblr with more ideas for this series or whatever you want @ sunsetozier !! <3


End file.
